The Dark of Russia
by SeptemberMyWinter
Summary: Russia - a heartwarming, welcoming place, driven by love and trust. Also with a dark poison slowly destroying those who know its power.
1. Contrasting Characters

A/N: First fanfiction here so I hope it goes ok! It's basically Kai's thoughts surrounding the events in the Russian tournament during the first season – hardly original I know =P So please R&R and enjoy!  
  
Disclaimer: I wish I owned Beyblade, but I don't. Grrr!  
  
The Dark of Russia  
  
Russia. Russia was perhaps one of the only aspects of the world I had grown to love, even though I am reluctant to acknowledge any existence of that particular emotion. Yes, I would say I love Russia, Moscow even more so.  
  
One of the particular characteristics that were the most captivating for me was how, during daylight hours, the great city appeared, in some way harmless, nothing out of the ordinary. It was the atmosphere of many civilians bustling around doing whatever they had to do on an ordinary day that gave the place a heart warming feel, I thought.  
  
However, when the sun sets and the piercing glow of the sun disappears, if the sky is not overcast of course, the dark enfolds Russia and holds it tight – protecting it from the light that had left barely minutes before. Within these dark folds the dark side of the vast city, as I would call it, would emerge. Black market deals would be made, hidden from the sharp eyes of the police that patrolled the streets at every hour. They were organised, very organised, but they themselves, would not dare venture from the areas of the streets that were highlighted dimly. This was probably why most were afraid of the alleys and the depth the lack of light contributed to them.  
  
I also love the overshadowed buildings, however, they were more efficient than beautiful but they themselves did add to the edge Moscow held. That was where I was at that time, admiring Russia's beauty from a shadow of a hotel I happened to be staying in away from the wandering eye, alone. I appreciated the time I had alone with Russia – my home.  
  
I was so entranced by the sight and enveloped by my thoughts that I vaguely noticed the ice-cold snow flakes falling elegantly around me – some to settle and create the long winter effect Russia had and some were to melt to small droplets each which glittered like diamonds from a small light hidden from me.  
  
My attention was drawn from the city to the hotel I was staying in. I was here for the moment, for the World Championships as it were. The Championships, I thought, should hardly have been a challenge until now, though my team made it a little more difficult than was necessary. However, I had looked forward to competing in Russia. I had grown up there – became even more mesmerised by its dark beauty by each swing of the pendulum.  
  
Despite some regrets of little progress I held of past matches I believe my team hold a fair chance. Though I do regret I may not compete myself. It was one of those hidden thoughts of mine that Russia brought out. Even more eerie was the feeling that I may compete myself. However, I don't know how that could be. At least I think I don't.  
  
My refreshed trance with the city that held a great part of me was cut short once again by its habit of being disturbed by the loud, and this time, intolerable television from the next room, which was just out of sight. My team; Tyson, Max and Kenny were staring idly at the box, well, excluding Kenny – he was trying to persuade them to go to bed like Rei had only an hour before.  
  
At least the kid has some sense. I thought quietly to myself. I once again turned my attention back to Moscow. The sound and essence of the capital was intoxicating – it was around me, within me ... It took me a while to realise that through my tiredness I was slowly falling asleep. It was time for rest, I thought.  
  
As I made my way into the white painted room I unfortunately heard Tyson's loud, crude remarks as Kenny's vain efforts failed time and time again. I sometimes amazed myself with how I could put up with some of them. They may mean well but still .... 


	2. DreamsMemoriesTruth

I had woken up this morning, once again, to a fast beating heart and the distant memories of another horrific nightmare. If you were to know me, you'd understand that I am not usually prone to any nightmares - petty or dramatic. However, these were rather different compared to any nightmare or dream I've ever experienced, so different in fact that I wonder whether they are just works of a creative imagination.  
  
I remember the boy, being dragged away. It seemed so familiar to me as if I'd seen something similar before. The man, the dark, shadowed one – there was something about him – about all of it. I know in my mind that it's hardly possible, but I feel that there's something about that man and the Abbey that tells me it's a part of me. Sometimes I feel like I'm breaking through my mind, and almost discovering something that was in front of my eyes, but I had blocked from my memory a long time ago.  
  
What appeared to bother me more increasingly than the other aspects, was not the boy being dragged away like a useless toy and not so much the harsh, cruel voice – ruthless and unforgiving. What I found most worrying was the building in which they all occurred.  
  
The same building was the main feature, the Abbey, the same cold stone building – the one that I had seen with my own eyes merely days before. Normally, I would need little reason to explain my fascination with the place – after all I always feel some sort of connection or bond between myself and Russia no matter what I appear to be observing. However, I fear that there may be something more – more than the usual captivating aura of Russia.  
  
I fear that there may be memories. Memories forgotten, that I long to recover, that I long to access through some unseen barrier. However, I also fear that when I finally know them the connection and the emotion – good or bad – will be so immense that I wish I'd never sought them out in the first place. There is something very tense and obsessive about the thought that I know there is something dark, darker than dark that is about to be revealed to me and I know my lust to know about what is hidden from me is great ... far too great.  
  
'Are you ok?' Rei asked me, his face expressing concern as it always had. I did not reply apart from my classic expression: 'Hn.' I had almost revealed to him my fear and longing, a bond too immense to be healthy. This, like everything else had to be kept to myself and only myself – just like everything else. This was my mission, mine, my own.

.......................

I ate breakfast silently, though this was no different. The others were still getting ready for the day so I hoped I'd be alone for now. I needed to think without any disturbances for a while. For a moment I considered visiting the building – I knew exactly where it was situated and I would hardly be missed for some time...  
  
At that moment Rei entered the room. I glanced briefly at his expression – it was concern once again. Not wishing to go through the same questions like I expected to occur, I kept my eyes fixed on the furnished wood and urged my mind to recollect any image or wording from my memory that would even fit with the grey building. None came.  
  
I could hear the others stumble down the creaky staircase. I didn't want to be disturbed and I wished to know more about what this place was. Its stone posture, the cold aura it had, it's towering height and the dense shadows – it all ment something to me. I had to find out, it was no request, no childish curiosity that could wait . I had to do this.  
  
I left, not saying farewell as always. I could not hear their questions nor feel their glares full of concern and annoyance on my retreating back. I stepped through the doors and embraced the cold, the comforting cold that only Moscow could give. It had snowed lightly through the night and so the ground was gently frosted but nothing heavy. I made my way down the path and took directions I didn't even know to my knowledge.  
  
As I walked through alleys and streets the desire to understand – to fill the gradually deteriorating part of my being where Russia was placed grew stronger and it seemed with every step I took I understood something more than had though I had acquired no solid information.  
  
The cold, grey, emotionless building with the deep shadows appeared in my mind time and time again, as if some great importance. The image of the boy – the boy being dragged away appeared too. However, unlike the other memory, I felt that this was not one solid event, but something that had occurred more than once, in my past.  
  
The voice. The cold voice, the voice that haunted me still and sent chills down my spine appeared more than was necessary for a simple memory. I knew whoever owned this voice would have something to do with this. He had to otherwise I would not feel intimidated and frightened by his voice, its low tone, and harsh texture. I would not feel that he once had a control over me, and when I meet him again – still will.


	3. Chapter 3

Though it was still daylight hours the streets were abandoned as though it were night. It was as though some higher beings rid the streets of Moscow of their civilians to add the feeling of uneasiness amongst the determination and curiosity.

It was bitterly cold and I was very aware that my heavy footsteps were louder than were necessary, so anyone could hear and would definitely try to stop me from reaching what I desired. However, I didn't meet one single living soul from that point and I knew that I would eventually reach the scene that haunted my sleep – waiting for me. Waiting to consume me, but was a being that I would risk my very life for.

I glanced to the left of me, away from the frost-glazed road. Wrought iron bars were placed, one after the other to form a large gate and matching fence. As I walked I noted the feeling of watching the motion blur of the bars, which gave the impression that I was reaching a place far away faster than would have been expected. It wasn't far from the truth. I looked down at the path once more with my cold hands hidden in my pockets.

I kept my head down for a few blocks afterwards. It was growing darker and frightfully colder. However, it would not faze me for I knew I was closer to the truth than I ever had been stationed in the hotel.

Emotions that I knew I was never allowed to feel were surfacing. Fear, anxiety and curiosity were the most detectable. I had no clue consciously of why I was or should be afraid. I knew, though, that what I was venturing into was a key to my past and what I was about to discover would tell me who I was. Perhaps I was afraid of who I was. Perhaps by the end of this I'll find myself with no goal in life, no thirst to achieve in life. Perhaps no life at all, and I'll become what my team thought I was – empty.

Without warning I stopped walking. I didn't know why I had – only that my feet refused to move and I wondered whether they refused because of the cold. Then I knew that could not be. I glanced to my left once more. Solid grey walls replaced the wrought iron and they stretched beyond my sight.

However, I did not care for how long they went on for because my eyes reached a stone path, which, unlike the path I was walking on, was not glazed over with a thin layer of ice. My eyes trailed up the path and was greeted with the large building that dwarfed every single being around it like a great king. It cast dense, black shadow across the small courtyard and almost ventured into the road to my left.

Blanketed underneath the black giant of a shadow, I could make out two guards, protecting what was my seducer. However, when I looked at the building, when I thought about it more than I ever had and when I tried to remember it, I knew that it wasn't what I was looking for. It was something inside.

There was something great inside the grey prison. Something of great power and strength. It was something that I knew I had met once before – something that was the cause of my being. Something dark, that would deceive me, betray me, have a hold on me that would be unbreakable, but it would give me the one thing I desired among all others. The key point to why I stood before this captor now ...

Perfection.

Perfection is my life – it's who I am. Now I cannot escape, my own desire and stubbornness keeps me here. I seem to fit perfectly with Russia and its darkness, and that is why I keep returning to its shadows – I can never escape. No matter how hard I try – use it's strength against itself – I can never turn away.

Yay, tis finished ...


End file.
